A Traitor Too
by THE-GHOST-OF-PURPLENESS
Summary: She's guilty, he's reeling. They're both in the same boat: unwilling traitors to their families. And they both need to let it go.


**This was inspired by Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol and Breathe (2 AM) by Anna Nalick. I love those songs, and although looking back over this it doesn't really scream 'inspiringly depressing' like both of those songs do, but I guess it works. Anyways, I sort of see this as the aftermath of the last episode of the season. I realize that Jade seems a bit OOC, but in my mind, Jade still cares for her sister (see Usual Suspects, among others), and Roy was forgiven very quickly after being discovered as the mole. So I made up a backstory, one that painted Jade in a better light, and then made her exhausted and hurt and stuff. In my imagination, the building she's sitting on is Artemis's apartment, and Jade was watching her. Which then made her emotional, and then that led to the rest...**

**Also, this is from Roy's POV.**

**I don't own Young Justice.**

She was sitting there, mask off, swords discarded, staring guiltily at her hands, and I couldn't bring myself to attack her.

And then the sobbing came, and I couldn't even walk away.

I was pathetic.

"Are you…alright?"

She looked up, her hand flying straight to her weapons, shock and anger and hatred written all over her face.

"What do _you_ want, _Speedy_?" She spoke in what I guessed was supposed to be a biting tone, but her voice was layered with something—hurt? Betrayal?—that I couldn't quite place, and the tears-on-dirt look sort of ruined the effect.

I shrugged and sat down beside her.

She glared at me angrily, as if acid looks alone would make me move.

"I work with the Batman," I informed her. "Death glares don't really work on me anymore."

She sighed loudly and dropped her death grip on the katana. "Go away."

I shook my head, trying to channel what Robin had aptly named my 'inner Wally,' and reached for her hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped, yanking her hand away like she'd been burnt by acid. "You are my _enemy_, asshole, and you don't just—sit _down_ with me and hold my _hand_!"

I stared at her. "You were crying," I said, partly to explain myself to her and partly to get confirmation. "And I'm a hero. I can't leave some damsel in distress crying on a rooftop in _Gotham_ of all places."

She frowned and fingered her sword distractedly.

"I'm not some damsel in distress," she said finally, not denying that she had been crying. "And I can take care of myself."

"Well…" I paused for a moment, unsure of how to continue. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head no, and maybe I was just losing my grasp on normal emotions—I was a _clone_, of all things, and a traitor, and that's just hard to come to terms with—but she didn't look like she meant it. So I nodded and we sat in silence.

"It's you," she said finally, her voice harsh and breathy. I looked at her questioningly, and she paused before elaborating. "You were a traitor," she muttered weakly, "And you even accused all of them—even _her_—of being the mole, and they—she—just forgave you. Just like that."

She snapped her fingers for emphasis, and I got the feeling I knew who she was talking about.

Then she burst into tears.

I reached out awkwardly, my hand hovering above her back, trying to decide whether comforting the enemy was any more treasonous that anything else I'd done so far.

But no, just like I couldn't walk away and let her wallow in self-pity, I couldn't sit there and watch her cry.

_Because of you_, my inner voice added, and I nodded. Yes—because of me.

I reached around her and pulled her into my chest, hugging her awkwardly. "I'm…sorry, I guess." She cried even harder.

"I couldn't stay," she whispered once she'd calmed down a bit. "Not with him—not with our dad. But I—I couldn't get a job and I couldn't get away from him and he threatened to hurt her if I didn't so I—I—I _agreed_!"

I winced. Her voice had been getting higher and higher until it cracked on that last word, and she was speaking almost right into my ear.

"I promised I'd always look out for her," she muttered. "That I'd never turn out like _Dad_." She tilted her head to look at me, a hard look in her eyes, and added, "That makes me a traitor. I betrayed my sister."

"I'm a traitor too," I said flatly. "Only difference is, I could have been responsible for the entire Justice League becoming like yo—becoming villains. All you did was motivate your sister to be a hero."

I didn't actually know that that was true, but it seemed to help, at least a little bit.

"I'm a traitor too," I repeated, liking the way it sounded. Like there were more of us—like I wasn't alone.

"Yeah," she echoed softly. "A traitor too."

"Someone should start a Traitors Anonymous support group," I joked. "We could be like—counselors or something!"

She grinned weakly. I could hear sirens blaring in the distance, and I knew I should go and help, but—this was a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing. One that I was thoroughly enjoying.

We passed a while in silence, interrupted only by the occasional siren or one of us pointing out a shadow that looked like Batman's cape or a gust of wind that sounded like Robin's laugh.

I shifted slightly, looking down at her. She was asleep, and I knew what I should do—take her in to the League. But I couldn't.

She looked too—innocent, I guess, for an assassin with the League of Shadows, and when all was said and done she was in the same position as me: forced to betray her family.

I smiled slightly as she nuzzled even closer to me, and a few moments later I had drifted off to sleep.

* * *

I woke up to the feeling of concrete under my head. But there was a strange—almost uncomfortable—lightness on my chest, and when I looked around, I couldn't find her. I frowned and stood—and something green fell out of my jacket and clattered to the ground.

Cheshire's mask. A note was taped to the inside, with a picture of the Cheshire cat and a scribbled phone number.

_Call me if you ever want to start that Traitors Anonymous support group._

_-Jade_

I fingered the mask in my hand, grinning like an idiot. And I wondered if she would think that keeping her mask—as a souvenir, of course—was creepy.

But then again—_Call me if you ever want to start that Traitors Anonymous support group—_I didn't really think she would.

**So what did you think? I like it. As always, please review, and tell me where I can improve. **


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